Her father's daughter - short story

It was the wind that bothered her most. It cut through the fabric of her clothing and clawed at her skin beneath. It made her feel the cold all the way to her bones. And she fucking hated being cold.

She wasn't sure why she was out here. Some misplaced sense of moral responsibility? Some life-debt to a man who kept betraying her trust again and again and again... She just couldn't fathom why she stood here, shoulder to shoulder with the three people she'd swore never to see again.

When the coroner moved the sheet and displayed the face, none of that mattered.

Paul's lifeless body looked up, cold, white, and lifeless from the edge of the field. He'd been stripped of every stitch of clothing. Bruises and scrapes marred his body from the neck down. She shook her head slowly from side to side as she looked at him. No, not him... his body. His empty shell of a body. Devoid of a soul now in death as his soul had been devoid of emotion in life. An empty shell that once housed an empty soul.

"Yeah." She finally said. "That's Paul Becker."
"You're sure."
"I'm fucking sure." She said. "Can I go now?"
"Sure." The cop said. "Just leave your info with officer Smith in case we need to reach you."
"Whatever, man."

Kelly turned and walked away. Debbie and Mark turned and walked with her towards their waiting cars. She did not speak as she walked. She thrust her hands deeper into her pockets and willed herself to be warm.


"Kel." Mark shouted after her. Kelly ignored him. "Kelly!" He said and grabbed her arm.
"What?" She whirled on him, venom in her eyes. "What the fuck do you want, Mark?"
"Are we at least going to talk about this?" He said.
"About what?" She glanced from him, to Debbie, then back at Mark. "The fact that he's finally dead? The fact that he's finally done so many drugs that he..."
"Kelly." Debbie's calmness cut through the cold wind  like a knife.
"What, Deborah?"
"He is our father."
"Was." Kelly corrected. "He was our father. Twenty years ago when he fucked our mom. He gave up his parental rights shortly thereafter when he decided he liked meth more than he liked us."
"That's not fair." Mark said.
"The fuck it's not." Kelly spat. "That mother fucker has 'tried to be clean' more times than I can count. I know that I've personally given that piece of shit $3,000 out of my own account for his supposed 'clean life' and I'm fucking over it."
"Kelly..." Debbie started to say but a hand stopped her.
"I am fucking over him." She said. "And now that he's dead, we can all move on with our lives."

She spun on them and left their open mouths in the cold wind as she stalked off to her car, bypassing the officer with whom she was supposed to leave her 'info.'

The car was warm as she slid behind the wheel. Thirty minutes later she stood outside the door of a rundown house at the corner of Elm and White. A man opened the door at her knock. He looked left and right and motioned her in.

"You okay?" He said.
"I am." She said. She took a deep breath and looked at him. "$1,500?"
"$1,500."

She reached into her purse, grabbed a thick envelope, and handed it to him.

"It's all there." She said but she ignored her and counted it anyway.
"You know." He said, looking up. "I..."
"I don't fucking care." Kelly said.
"I have known Paul for twenty years." He said continuing. "He's been clean for ten."
"Like I fucking care." She turned to leave, but she stopped at the door and looked over her shoulder at the man. "John?"
"Yes?"
"I know for a fact you're not clean. So it'll be your word against mine."
"I..."
"Remember that, John. I will fucking bury you right next to him." She stormed out of the door and never glanced back.

She begrudgingly attended the funeral of her father. She even spoke with somber, sad words when people asked how she was holding up. Two days later, she stood with her estranged siblings in the lawyer's office and listened as the will was read. The house went to Mark. Everything else went to Debbie.

"And to my oldest daughter, Kelly." The man read. "I leave one thousand and five hundred dollars."
"What?" Kelly said, cold sweat breaking out across her body.
"I will continue." The lawyer said. "One thousand and five hundred dollars so that she may be repaid for the things she has done here."
"I!" Kelly started to say but the lawyer spoke over her.
"Because I have known for many years now that your dealer is the same who poisoned me. The man you have been buying your drugs from is the same horrible human being that preyed upon me when I was at my weakest."
"That lying son of a bitch!" Kelly snarled.
"That the man you've paid to cause my death is the same man who has been selling you the drugs you've been slowly killing yourself on for the last ten years."
"LIES!" She screamed, but the lawyer continued.
"I have known of your plot to murder me and I have allowed it to happen. I was dying. I was dying and it was going to be slow and painful. This allowed me a way out. So I thank you for that." Mark and Debbie's eyes bore holes into their sister. "I will not give you my house or my car so that you can sell them and turn into drugs. I will not give you anything other than the money you paid." The lawyer looked up, cleared his throat, and then continued. "Get your shit together, Kelly. Before you end up like me."

Tears ran down her face openly as the lawyer slid a thick envelope across the table to her.

"You are your father's daughter, Kelly Grace." The lawyer continued. "Try harder to not be."

Kelly left the room, waiting for the local police to arrest her, but it didn't happen. She was allowed to leave. Sheriff Atkins only nodded at her as she passed him in the parking lot.

That night, Kelly Grace Green, formerly Becker, died of an overdose in her apartment on Main. Her funeral was attended by her sister, Deborah, and her brother, Mark.